


Draw Your Swords

by roraruu



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Battle, F/M, Gerome? More like grrome lmaooooo, Kissing, Sexual tension?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 16:19:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12708525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roraruu/pseuds/roraruu
Summary: In which gerome n Severa r just generallly dumb pissbabies with swords and some kissing at the end ¯\_(ツ)_/¯





	Draw Your Swords

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to try a lil bit of free form writing but lmao it fell on it’s face Sorry... plus I’ve been wanting to post smth for a while now so y not sacrifice the shitty rare pair one shot?  
> Also hi Severa is just like her mom: bi as fuck bye

Neither of them enjoyed the other’s company. It was a forced position, for the betterment of the Shepherds. But oh, how he wished he had been paired with someone else, Owain, Lucina, Kjelle, anybody! Hell, he’d even take Inigo’s Gods-awful pickup lines if it meant he was not paired with her.

The way she moved in battle... How gracefully she dodged attacks. The way her blade was as if an extension of her arm. Her every movement like a finely practiced dance move, even down to the way she drew her damn sword - it was as if she was flaunting herself.

Well of course she was. She was a bombshell and she knew it, plain and simple.

So why couldn’t he stop staring?

Gods, that sounded creepy. Too creepy. Don't ever say that aloud... He told himself under his breath.

Still, the question stood. Weird, because he had done it before with the other girls. They didn't faze him in the slightest, not even Cynthia's proclamation of love. However, when Severa entered the room, he couldn't tear his gaze not even for a second. Maybe Noire had deflected one of her mother's curses onto him? Gods, he hoped not.

Gerome cringed, tearing his gaze away and instead back to his lance. It was dark, a little after nightfall. The other young Shepherds had taken to sitting around a campfire. The hoots and hollers were proof enough that they'd found one of the parents' stashes of mead or cider. It wouldn't be surprising if the elders had turned a blind eye; it was their first victory as a complete group. Robin had suggested to send out only the kids and a few extra clerics, just to give some experience when needed.  
Experience, right. Because the real thing a group of kids from a ruinous future needed was fucking experience! Gods, it was a wonder what Chrom thought of when he recruited the idiot.  
He frowned adjusting his grip on the worn handle of his lance, trying in vain to reinforce the blade to its' hilt. He grunted before giving up and throwing the lance to the side. He rested back on an overturned feeding trough, shutting his eyes.

His mind flashed back to the day’s battle. The swinging of her blade in perfect time. Her dodging with a graceful leap that any perfectionist could not find fault in. When she barked at Kjelle that a truly demure lady would not be in her way. When she scouted ahead because he would be “too slow”, and the odd feeling when he was not offended. When his eyes lingered on how her lithe hips swayed as she ran ahead, sword drawn, pigtails tossed over her shoulder, poised to take down an enemy with a single devastating blow straight to the heart. When he had grabbed her shoulder to pull her out of the way of a stray arrow she hadn’t accounted for. The way her bare skin brushed again him and wood-like, sweet and alluring scent exploded from her person.

No. No he was not to think of this, this... this sin. He was not to be attached to anyone, for fate could tear them apart at any second. And why in the hell would he even tolerate Severa, let alone think of her like that? Why couldn’t he have these thoughts about shy Noire or bubbly Cynthia or Lucina and her Falchion? Why the arrogant, obnoxious, repugnantly opposing yet... strangely gorgeous Severa?

Well, he did have a thing for redheads... and it didn’t help that she was one of the more... developed Shepherds upstairs. And her assets did made up for the few flaws she did have; like her height in comparison to the other young Shepherds. Yet, Gerome did find short girls cute, especially when they selfishly wore high heels to appear taller, a vice that Severa had been all too guilty of on multiple occasions.

“Gawds, do you always sit in the dark like that? Creepy much?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Of course it had to be her. He sat up quickly, glancing towards Severa and faced immediate regret. Her armour, off: wearing the corduroy turtleneck of the standard mercenary uniform. Her posture ever perfect, standing tall like the well-bred woman she was. Her hands on her hips, she looked... well, gorgeous. Her lips pouted, her eyes narrowing on him. “Brooding by yourself?” She condescendingly asked. “Laaaaaaaaaame.”

Gerome kept his gaze from her, instead focusing on the worn, dirt grounds of the training field. He snatched up his lance, rising to his full height. “You know that it’s incredibly rude to ignore someone when they’re speaking to you?” She said.

He had to get away from her, remove himself from her presence... No matter how elusive or alluring she could come across. That brush today was too close in both a physical and mental sense. And these feelings he faced, he wished for them to be gone. Everything he wished to be gone.

He remedied that they would. He would go to Robin and tell him that he couldn’t fight alongside Severa anymore. He didn’t care if he had to face Morgan’s obsession with masks, namely his. Then he would see a cleric or priest in town to remove these feelings... Maybe even a dark mage for a curse. “Hey! I’m talking to you!” She said.

Gods, it was as if he couldn’t move quick enough. He pushed past the mercenary, hand grasping his weapon.

“Are you completely daft?” She exclaimed, holding out her hand to stop him. Thin fingers spread to resemble a star, her palm against his chest. He froze, looking to her, the pout on her lips having turned to a scowl.

She was touching him. By her own will. Not like earlier when he had to practically throw her on Minerva and scoot. No. She was touching him, something about her sending chills down his spine. No. He didn’t want this. Or did he? No he didn’t, of course he didn’t, get ahold of yourself Gerome, Gods.

He quickly took her wrist, throwing her hand away from him. “Don’t touch me.” He rumbled.

“Don’t ignore me then!”

“Stop shrieking. You’ll attract Risen.”

“As if I don’t care.” She growled before poking his chest firmly with her index finger. “You were out of line today.”

“I fought.” He said plainly.

Severa frowned. “No you didn’t! You were distracted! You can’t let that happen, especially on our first mission!” She barked.

“Why do you care so much?” He snapped. When the mercenary didn’t respond, he shot, “It’s rude to ignore someone.”

“You were out of line throwing me out of the way.” She said, glaring at him. “When the arrow was about to hit me?”

“We are partners. It is my duty to watch your back.”

“No it isn’t. It’s your job to watch over your damn lizard with wings and fight!” She exclaimed.

Gerome stayed silent as she pulled her sword free. The blade glinted in the lantern’s light as she took an offensive stance. “Now... Face me.” She ordered.

“Why?”

“Because I want you to,”

“That’s not a good enough reason.”

“Fight me for glory.”

“I don’t want glory.”

“Fight me for practice then. An after-hours sparring session.”

“I don’t have a weapon.”

She nodded to the aged lance in his hand. “Yes you do.”

“It wouldn’t be fair.”

“Lances best swords, even if they are old. A worn lance versus a sword is fair to me. Besides, I’m not wearing any armour. You have the edge.”

“I reiterate; why do you want to fight me?”

“Because I am not some damsel you have to fret over; I am a Shepherd like you. Now face me like one!”  
  
“With a broken lance? I think not. Besides, shouldn’t you be with the others? And why the hell would I care about you? Whoever said I did?”

The look on her face was enough sign that his words had done what he’d hoped for. A perfect time, while she was still shocked or fuming, to slip away. And if she was feisty and landed a hit on him, good. It would be proof that they couldn’t get along, proof for Robin.

Still, the thought of battling his partner was... elusive? Piquing of his interest. Of course he had fought Severa before, but that had always been in routine drills, commanded by Frederick or one of the elder Shepherds. Protected and regulated: nothing above the neck or below the belt, no weapons triangle, no brutality. Not actual fighting.

And the stakes were interesting... Broken lance? No armour? Full throttle? Well how could he—

Oh no. No no no. Gods, no. He was not thinking about a... a... a fucking sexy fight with Severa. No, that was not happening. This was not one of those melodramatic romance novellas that his mother adored. He was not about to enter a dramatic duel and injure her or vice versa and end up licking each other’s wounds before—

Ugh. No. Even thinking about it made him flush.

As he walked away her felt reverberation on his armour and sharp screech as Severa’s silver sword grazed his armour. He spun on his heel, holding his lance in front of him. A sour clang rang through the air, his lance blocking her sword from impact. She took a calculated step forwards, sending him wheeling back.

“I said no!” He exclaimed, swinging his lance to fend off her sword. “Are you seriously that dense?”

“You’re the dense one!” She growled back, twirling to hit his side. “Now actually fight and stop dodging!”

The dracoknight scowled. Stubborn bitch. But... she looked kinda hot when she was royally pissed off.

She knocked him backwards with a swift kick from her foot. Despite his armour, the wind knocked out of him and left him dazed. His gaze settled on hers as she pushed him up against the side of the supply shed, her right arm pinning him there. Her sword, still from her grasp, she had nothing but her fists and her cunning. She frowned. “Why do you avoid me?” She growled lowly.

He stayed silent. “Gerome, why are you avoiding me?” She repeated, softer this time. She jostled him backwards, getting only a grumble from him.

His gaze trailed down to her feet, noticing that she stood on her tiptoes to keep his shoulders pinned. She was stronger than he remembered. She pressed him back harder, holding his gaze. He fought a blush that would betray him, even if the mask did its job. He pulled his foot from the ground, swiftly kicking her knee and sending her off balance, toppling. He quickly grabbed his lance before growling, “leave me alone”

When he turned back around, Severa pointed her sword at his chest. Her gaze narrowed and her voice low, she growled his name. Such an act sent shivers down down his spine. “I want to know why!”  
“Won’t you give up?”  
“Not until you tell me!”

His gaze flickered to hers. “Why do you think?” He hissed.

Did he have a fucking death wish? Did he want her to see through him like a window? Gods, he was an idiot! Still, he felt... excited? Enthralled by hanging off the edge of this stupid emotion. This stupid idea that plagued him. The thought that he had feelings for Severa. “I don’t know what to think when I’m around you,” she said lowly. Her voice dipped. She frowned, her lips puckered as if she were ready to cry. “I want to think...”

She stopped herself, trying to stop hiccuping tears. He cringed, realizing how deeply his words had cut... a fleeting moment of Severa lowering her sword. Quietly now... otherwise she would have him pinned like prey.

Still, seeing her on the brink of tears. Strong and snarky Severa, close to crying... it just wasn’t right. He hated himself for bringing her to this level of... sadness? Gods, he loved her! No that was too invested a word, too expensive at the cost of his pride. Intrigued by her? Still too severe... but an attraction, right? Because he if he truly did feel something was going a Gods-awful job of showing it.  
He heard her sniffle, causing him to lower his lance. And then she promptly barrelled him back against the shed, the old wood creaking as he hit it again. “Tell me! Draw your sword and tell me why!” She exclaimed, her cheeks flush and her eyes glassy.

Fuck love. She was making this difficult. More difficult than it had to be! He could’ve just had these feelings in quiet and she could’ve run off with anyone of the guys, as if he cared.

Which he did. He really did care.

Inigo was a playboy, Owain was a dolt, Yarne would run at the sight of her, Brady would cry at the sound of her voice, Laurent would never let her near the market place... None of them could tame her or please her... Hell, could he even? Probably not, but... Fuck, Gerome couldn’t handle that. So fuck it. Fuck it all. Love hurts, right?

“Why do you think?” He repeated with a firm hand pushing her away and grabbing his lance. He stood on the offensive, jabbing at her. She dodged his attack, countering quickly. Fuck this. Fuck that. Fuck it. If she wanted to know, fine. She should just know that he wasn’t about to act on this crush, that it was going no-fucking-where. “Haven’t you seen how I linger in the mess tent and training grounds? I’ve been observing you Severa! The garrison, huh? You walk around thrice, select your weapon and then leave. Always do. I’ve seen it a thousand times!”

She flushed, pausing before launching an attack which he dodged with ease. “You think you’re the only one who ‘observes’, you creep?! Gawds you are so full of yourself!”

“The pot calls the kettle black.”

“It’s not like anyone else watches me! You just... you watch and then avoid me? What the hell’s your damage?!”

“You! Its you Severa! You drive me crazy!”

She took a jab at him, barrelling back on the ground. She rolled over, taking another jab that sent him stumbling. Pinned. She was pinned. Underneath him and his stupid black armour and his stupid soft cape that hung to the right and grazed her arm. The stupid soft blush on her cheeks and this pounding in her chest.

She struggled underneath him, a flush coming across her cheeks. “Cr-crazy? What do you mean? Gawds you’re making no sense!”

“Think you dolt.” He growled. “Why would I watch you with such intent?”

“I don’t know! Just come out and say it!”

“I have a thing for you!”

Fucking finally.

She flushed, her cheeks matching the shade of her hair. “Excuse me?”

“I have a thing for you! There! Now sheath your sword and leave.” He said, face on fire with a blush.

“Wh—“ She started. Her voice was hoarse. “I thought you liked Morgan! You mean to tell me that you actually—“

“Don’t say it.” He growled.

“You... you like me? In that way?”

“What are you, seven years old?”

“I’m not the one who’s blushing like a schoolgirl.”

He scowled, shaking his head. Fuck it, right? He dropped his hand and cupped the side of her face. He felt the heat for her cheeks against his leather gloves, radiating like the sun. As if he were about to examine a flower, he tilted her head ever so slightly. Her eyes wide at him, scared almost.

And ever so gently... Quite gingerly... Touching ever so softly... Tenderly, as if either of them would shatter, he let his lips brush hers. A quick brush.

Not a kiss. Definitely not a kiss. Just a brush. Like a quill against ink you see? Wait no, the strokes would have been much more firm and precise and shit, he wasn't making out with her... Although if circumstances were different, he wouldn't mind making out... But no, it wasn't so firm. Maybe more like a teabag hitting boiling water? Exploding with colour and scent and spiralling—

Fuck it. It was a kiss. He kissed Severa. Nail to the hammer. Done. Now these damn feelings would fucking leave.

Just as quickly, he broke away from her. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Gods he would regret that.

Severa blushed redder than wildfire, her eyes wide as he got to his feet. She sat on her bottom, brow furrowing as he reached for his sword. “Hey, where are you—?”

Swiftly, he spun on his heel to turn away. A stutter... how cute. Unbecoming, though she wasn't some wilting flower.

“You’re not leaving so I will.”

“Gerome!” Her voice sending a shiver down his spine.

“Forget I said anything... Or did anything. This didn’t happen.”

She got to her feet, pointing her sword at him. “Stay.” She demanded.

“I’d prefer not to—”

She faced him, her face flushed and her eyes wide. In the blink of an eye she dropped her sword, standing up on the tips of her toes. She was hot, so hot against him. Shit and that perfume? Gods, why did she have to smell and feel so good. Just as quickly she held his face between her hands and kissed him back. Not a pussy-ass brush like he did, a full on kiss. “I guess I’ve got a thing for you too.” Then quickly, she whispered, “None of this leaves these grounds.”

He stumbled for words momentarily. Her fingers on the edge 


End file.
